#Should I make an edit with them and that passage

[sailon-ishmael]

Thank you @greenleaf4stuff for the tag!

I think my first time encountering Tolkien was the Peter Jackson trilogy, my dad is a big Tolkien fan and he was super into the movies when they first came out. I was quite young the first time I saw them, I think I might have stumbled into the room when the second one was on or something. It wasn't the most successful first encounter because I was absolutely PETRIFIED by Gollum and the orcs and cursed Theoden lololol. In my defense, I think was about three years old so, good job Dad. But later when I was a bit older I was convinced to actually watch them all the way through and fell in love of course. My dad and I still do the full on extended edition watch-throughs when we can, and I recently made two of my best friends watch them all with me. Successful converts.

In sixth grade, we read The Hobbit and my teacher was a huge Tolkien fan so she had a bunch of creative projects for us to do, including keeping an Elvish dictionary and writing our own "journey journal", like we were Bilbo and illustrating it ourselves. In hindsight, perhaps that project could count as my first foray into fanfiction lolol. I think I still have it somewhere, I should dig it out.

But I really enjoyed reading it then, I remember finding Bilbo to be very relatable as I was a pretty shy kid and I too would have struggled with having my home suddenly overrun by dwarves. One of my most visceral memories of that first time reading The Hobbit was the riddles in the dark passage. I was so immersed in the darkness, I felt like I could hear Gollum's voice in my ears as I read.

Around the same time as we read The Hobbit, the first of the The Hobbit movies actually came out as well so my dad and I went to watch those as well. Initially disappointing because we didn't know it was going to be a trilogy adaptation lol but I can safely say The Hobbit trilogy was one of my gateways to fandom/fanfiction. The Bagginshield of it all REALLY got to me. Hallelujah.

So I've always been a casual to moderate Tolkien fan, but this past year getting into TROP has definitely converted me to being an active fandom participant, and I'm so glad. It's helped me reconnect with my Tolkien love and actually get into the lore in a way I haven't before. I'm currently making my way through reading the whole LOTR trilogy, and planning to do The Silmarillion after I finish that.

Idk who hasn't been tagged yet lol but if any of my moots see this and want to join, please do!

Okay.

Something that brings all of us together is our love for Tolkien's work, and its spinoffs.

So, question: What got you into Tolkien?

I'll start.

When I was 12, my father urged me to read The Hobbit. So I did, and I was mesmerized by it, to the point where I'd stay up in the middle of the night to read it. I never got beyond that, though.

Two years ago, I decided to reread it, and I fell in love all over again with the story, characters, Tolkien's writing style, everything. So I decided to read The Lord of the Rings. I got the first book, read a couple of chapters.. and gave up. It was too verbose, too prosaic.

The next year, that is, a few months later, I tried my hand at it again. This time, I got through four chapters, but I still couldn't read the rest. Then.. I began crushing on a guy who'd read it, and so I grit my teeth and went for it. I read, and read, and this time, I found myself enjoying it. Bonus, the guy and I got into conversation.

After finally finishing the first book, I even started the second, and watched the first movie with my family. (By way of flirting I asked the guy whether he liked PJ's Trilogy, and he told me he "found them low budget" so that, um, ended. I'm no longer crushing on real people.)

I read the second, the third book, reread The Hobbit a third time, watched all the movies, and joined Tumblr. Then I got motivated to read The Silmarillion. I'm currently working on that, as well as my Tolkien collection.

Honestly, one thing that fuels my love for the work is all my lovely mutuals who I've gained through this love.

So.. no pressure tags: @gauntletgirlie @wowstrawberrycow @valar-did-me-wrong @balrogballs @ghost-of-morrowbright @gingeragenda @greenleaf4stuff @dragon--ashes @dwarveslikeshinythings @numenoria @onebillionblorbos @zaldritzosrose @varda-star-queen @the-bogginses-are-gay @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @daughterofthesunlands @princessfantaghiro and anyone else I've missed/wants to join.

[vyoongi]

I happened to remember Cain and Abel and that led me to Caracalla and Geta, obviously. I specifically looked for that passage where God asks Cain: What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground. And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand.

Everything reminds me of them and I cry.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent misc pictures

[bitchesuntitled]

Costco

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader wc: 2,421

Summary: Imagine if you will that you work at Costco, there's some weird stuff in the jalapeno poppers and some time travel happens. Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18+ content(GO ON GIT), Sex pollen-ish(?), Unprotected PinV(be smarter than this), jalapeno poppers, costco, inappropriate use of a storage room, explicit language, time travel shenanigans, oral sex, think that's it if I missed anything let me know! A/N: I wrote this for a discord server fic exchange and it is for the wonderful @beefrobeefcal who I also tricked into helping me edit it because she is the sweetest! She's already seen it, I'm just now getting around to posting it. Thank you much to @jay-zzle for the amazing moodboard and helping me brainstorm on this story, without you this would not be a thing <3

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

“New! Bacon-wrapped stuffed jalapeños!” The front of the box states. What should be delicious looks more like if someone picked up a dog turd and wrapped bacon around it, trying to pass it off as something edible. John, your boss, was making you pass out the free samples of these supposed stuffed jalapeños.

Surely they aren’t that bad , you think, stomach rumbling, reminding yourself you had skipped lunch today. Glancing around to make sure no customers were about before grabbing one of the samples and popping it into your mouth.

“Oh god,” you mumble past a mouthful of cream cheese, bacon, and jalapeño in disgust. They look and taste like shit. You suppose you can’t expect much from prepackaged frozen food though. The bitter sour taste still on your tongue as you grab your water bottle off the table, chugging some of it to try and rid your mouth of the gross flavor. 

Reaching for the box to check the expiration date on these things, they’ve got to be expired with that sort of flavor. The ground begins to shake violently, toppling the box onto the floor. Your head snaps up to look around. What the fuck was that?

—

All Marcus could remember was running on the battlefield before slamming into this mysterious shelf housing weird colorful goods. A woman in strange clothing gasped, grasping the child next to her, also wearing strange clothes, before quickly scurrying away. Where are their tunics? The footwear they wore looked suffocating compared to his thin leather sandals. He looked around, trying to determine where he was.

Everything in this place was so damn bright and colorful. Not that Rome didn’t have its fair share of colorful beauty, but these appeared ten times brighter than Marcus has ever seen, such as the weird candles above his head that appear to possess the sun’s power with their bright intensity. He starts walking along the smooth stone passage, hoping to find someone he can speak with to figure out where he is and hopefully get some answers on how to get back to Rome.

He spots a beautiful woman in a blue apron standing behind a table. A kind smile graces her face as people walk past her. He thinks she must be selling goods at her table and decides to approach her for help. This must be a sign from the gods. This woman with her sweet smile and beauty beyond anything he could ever imagine, surely she’d be able to help him in his time of need.

—

After eating the supposed stuffed jalapeño, you weren’t feeling the best but you knew the last thing John would do is let you leave. Business as usual, doling out polite smiles as customers pass you by, glancing at the free samples and shaking their heads. No one wanted to try these monstrosities and you didn’t blame them.

“Oh, great,” you huff, rolling your eyes, spotting a man dressed in full Roman garb walking around aimlessly, “Must be some sort of convention in town again.” The man approaches you cautiously.

“Good afternoon,” you say with an upbeat, chipper tone, “Would you like to try some brand new stuffed jalapeño poppers that just came in?” you ask, gesturing to the stuffed peppers before you. “Despite how they look, they are indeed pretty tasty,” you say, giving the man a saccharine smile.

“What?” The man murmurs, glancing at the samples sitting on the table.

“They are a new product we just got in,” you explain, tilting your head to study him. The man continues to stare down at the table; he appears somewhat frazzled, like a small child who has lost his mother in the store. “Have you ever been to a Costco, sir?

“A Cos- what?” The man repeats, brown eyes narrowing as he stares at you. A fire in your veins lit up from his dark eyes peering at you, goosebumps rushing across your skin from his heavy glare.

“Costco,” you gulp, your tongue feeling like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth. You gesture your arms around. “The store we’re in? Listen, you okay, man?” you ask, grabbing your water bottle again.

“Never been here,” he murmurs, gripping the table between you, taking deep steadying breaths.

“It’s all good! I can understand the panic,” you chuckle nervously, taking a swig of your water bottle. The cool water gives your throat a short sense of relief as it travels down your esophagus. “This place is kind of overwhelming your first time. But we like to give customers samples of food so they can try it before they buy it?”

“Is this the local market for your region?” He asks, peering up at you. 

“Market? Region?” You ask, rolling your eyes, “Dude, I get you might be in character or whatever,” your eyes trailing up and down along his form, butterflies flitting about in your stomach as you really take notice of him. His skirt showing off his bare muscular legs, his strong torso filling out the chest plate of the armor he wore, his biceps straining against the fabric of his tunic, “But let’s keep it to today's times, please.” You grab one of the jalapeño poppers and shove it towards him. “Eat it.”

He takes it from you gingerly, fingers brushing against one another and a tingly sensation shoots straight through you to your core, thighs clenching together as you feel a rush of arousal seeping into your underwear. The man looks at you and then at the food.

“Just take a bite of it.” You laugh nervously, “Not like it’s poison or something.”

His eyes narrow at you with the mention of poison and he continues to stare at it.

“Look, I’ll even eat one too, so you know it’s not poisonous,” you murmur, picking up one of the jalapeños and taking a good-sized bite to prove your point. “Mmmm,” you let out an exaggerated hum around a mouthful of the disgusting appetizer. The man slowly brings the pepper to his lips before biting into it, grimacing at the foul taste in his mouth, but continues to swallow before grabbing another to devour. “Hey man, you’re only supposed to take one.” you caution, watching him eat the second sample before he grabs your water bottle, attempting to open it. “Woah now, hold on just a minute there.”

“Water!” he gasps, shaking your water bottle, his big hand gripping the flesh of his throat. “I need water.”

Your eyes widen, nodding dumbly as you open the water bottle for him and hand it over. He snatches it from your hands, suckling down the liquid in heavy gulps, watching as his throat bobs up and down as he swallows. It feels like someone has turned up the heat, your breath coming faster as you watch him. This should not turn you on as much as it is. This man is simply drinking water to quench his thirst.

“W-what’s your name?” you ask, the ache between your thighs growing in intensity the longer you stare, watching as he places the water bottle back on the table with a loud – thunk – he stares at you, his pupils overshadowing the deep brown of his irises.

“Marcus,” he growls. Your cunt flutters around nothing, hearing the baritone of his voice. “And yours?” you let out a small squeak, giving him your name. You can feel the sweat dripping down the column of your spine as you stand there staring at one another. You watch a bead of sweat slide down from his temple, trailing to the side of his neck. It makes your insides scream, wanting to leap across the table and lick it off his skin. You can’t take it anymore.

“Follow me,” you whisper, a small whimper escaping your lips, reaching across the table, gripping his wrist firmly, and pulling him to follow you to the back of the food section. The storage room for the freezers should be a good spot. No one likes going in there because of how cold it is but the frigid temperature doesn’t even register with the way your body feels like it’s on fire.

You grip Marcus’ wrist harder, pulling him in and shutting the door behind you, turning to face him. A puff of air escapes your lips as you breathe out, approaching him slowly, watching his dark eyes drink you in. He grabs your waist, pulling you flush against him, his mouth descending onto your own with a grunt as his tongue flicks against your bottom lip. You gasp, creating enough space between your lips for Marcus to plunge his tongue into your mouth, tongues rolling against one another, fighting for dominance. He grunts, pushing you against the wall, trailing his lips across the column of your throat.

“Marcus,” you pant, breath hitching at the simple touch of his lips against your neck. He groans as your fingers tug his dark curls, “More, Marcus. Please,” you beg, shoving his hand below your apron, letting him feel the heat of your pussy through the jeans that cover your legs. His hand comes to the waistband of your jeans, trying to tug them off before you help him unbutton them and slide them down your legs, kicking off your shoes in the process. Goosebumps ripple down your legs as Marcus’ strong calloused hands caress your skin, inching their way back towards your thighs.

“Beautiful,” Marcus hums, grabbing one leg and placing it on his shoulder, “Such a sight to behold,” he murmurs, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Marcus,” you gasp, your hand reaching down to grasp his hair and pushing his face where you want it most. He lets out a deep chuckle, nosing the fabric that covers your mound.

“You smell delicious, sweet girl,” He grins, taking a deep breath in against your pussy. His fingers toy with the elastic of your underwear, hooking them in and pulling your underwear to the side as his tongue makes contact with your center. Already feeling the coil in your belly tightening at the first contact of his tongue. You let out a ragged moan as his tongue swirls against your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Marcus,” you whine, and he grunts against your pussy as you tug on his hair. The vibrations against your clit causing the coil to snap inside you. Your back bows as waves of pleasure wash over you. “ Fuckfuckfuckfuck ,” you cry out, smothering Marcus’ face with your juices.

Marcus stands, his lips and chin glistening from your arousal as he looks down at you, “My turn,” he grunts, gripping your waist quickly and pushing you to the nearest flat surface. His hand comes to the back of your neck, gently nudging you down against the pallet of fish sticks. You want to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, but a moan comes out instead, feeling his thick fingers push inside you. The frills of his skirt hit the back of your thighs, and your pussy clenches around his fingers, turning your upper half to try and get a look at him. His fingers leave the warmth of your sex, one hand still gently on the back of your neck while the other reaches under his skirt and tunic, pushing the fabric aside for his length to bob freely, shuffling closer to you.

“Oh gods, I need to feel your warmth around me,” He growls, looking up at the wrecked expression on your face, “This is okay, yes?” he asks, rubbing his tip between your folds. “Please tell me it’s okay,” he grunts, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out, the fire in your veins burning brighter from his touch, “Please,” you whisper, your legs trembling with effort to stay upright. Marcus snaps his hips forward, plunging his length into your heat. Your walls create space for him as his thick cock kisses your womb. Your hands scramble, attempting to find something to hold onto. Marcus’ arms reach past your shoulders, caging you beneath him as he grips your hands and shushes you.

“It’s all right, sweet girl,” he coos. “You’ll be fine,” he continues, pulling back a few inches before snapping back into your warmth with hunger. “Remember, it's my turn now.” He taunts, feeling your walls already beginning to flutter around him.

“Oh god,” you whimper, writhing as his length saws in and out of you with fervor.

“Oh gods, look at you,” Marcus grunts, grinding his cock into you harder, “Taking me so well,” he groans, squeezing your hands tighter as his hips continue to move against you. His chest comes flush against your back, “Are you going to come for me, sweet girl?” he breathes against your neck. You let out a pitiful moan and nod. “I can feel how much you’re enjoying this,” he comments with a grin, moving one of his hands down to your center, feeling his length punch into you over and over again.

“Fuck !” You scream out when Marcus pinches your clit, your walls clenching tightly around his cock as your orgasm takes over. It feels like a ball of energy has erupted within your body and zips down all your limbs, ears ringing as you faintly hear Marcus grunting and growling behind you. 

“Oh gods,” he shouts behind you, thrusting into you half a dozen more times before painting your walls with his warm spend, collapsing on top of you. “I have never felt like that,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

“Me neither,” you hum, feeling your body floating back to earth.

—

You pull your pants on clumsily as you hear your boss calling your name through the faint buzzing in your ears. 

“The hell are you woman?” Pushing through the freezer storage doors, John shouts, “Why are you back here?”

“I- we- I- well,” you start, smoothing your shirt down before slipping your apron back on.

“Save it,” John huffs, glaring between you and Marcus. “Get him outta this room,” he says, pointing at Marcus, “and start pulling those jalapeño poppers off the shelves. The FDA called every grocery store in the country and issued a mass recall. Apparently, they’re having some weird effect on people,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Sure thing, John,” you huff, walking with Marcus towards the door, giving John a pat on the shoulder, “But I gotta go to the health section first and see if we have any plan B in stock.”

[inkskinned]

im gonna start a fight; and, at the same time, i need you to take this in the most good-faith way possible, but:

videos that involve body-checking and intentionally (and uncritically) show a mealplan of an unhealthy number of calories are just a revamped version of pro-ana food diaries.

and yeah, i know there's arguments. i address some of them under the cut. but at the end of the day, we're just coming back to romanticizing mental illness; we've just found a better platform for it.

this is already something we've done. we knew it was wrong and tried to stop it. and tbh. it just wasn't enough.

there are people who argue "well, what if you have an eating disorder, you can't help it if you don't eat!" except that as someone with an ED; we are not infants. we know what we're doing. part of having an ED is that you are like, maybe too self-aware. even if we can't help our own food choices, we don't need to fucking romanticize the disorder - something we've been warning you about since 2013. there are hours of setup, filming, and editing that go into these videos. they do not happen to fall into place randomly. there is a reason they are pieced together to be beautiful, bright, inspiring.

there's this woman who pretty much only posts daily plans under a normal amount of calories, and everyone defends her saying but it's better than nothing! and i'm like. except she opens those with images of her showing off her body and provides no context in the video or caption that suggests that she believes what she's doing is unhealthy. she has hundreds of thousands of followers on a platform designed for young kids and teens. i refuse to believe that by accident her content just happens to be cheery advice on "healthy" versions of starving.

for any other symptom of mental illness, we would be incredibly enraged by this kind of placid acceptance of a "tips and tricks" fast-start guide. imagine if people posted pink & pretty videos saying "best places to cut yourself" as if it was a fucking storytime. we, as a society, are so fucking fatphobic that we would rather accept blatantly harmful displays of self harm than admit that we are obsessed with a hyper-thin body type.

i am not suggesting someone never talks about their disorder. i talk about mine. actually, it's a plot point in my book.

here's the difference: i recognize it's a fucking mental illness. i am very careful to never mention a specific weight, eating pattern, or calorie plan. i always make sure to position it as something that ruined my fucking life. i do not put cheery music in the background and hearts and sparkles over my worst moments. i do not film it in bright light. i do not start each passage with an image of a thin body followed by "here's how to look like her."

eating disorders should not be framed as aspirational. and the problem is that society worships the "after" image, so long as you don't get too sick. there is a reason so many people who quit being "influencers" will later admit - i wasn't eating well that whole time; an obsession with food was completely destroying my life.

we let any uncredited, uncertified person write the most backwards, fucked up shit about how to get the body you desire! because the underlying, secret belief is: well, at least they're thin! and the real thing that fucking gets me each time - they make fucking money off of it. their irresponsibility and societal harm literally pays off for them.

"why do you care so much." "don't like it don't look." "so what if people experiment with new ways of thinking of food?"

thank you for asking. we're about to get extremely personal. it's because when i was 18 i discovered "thinspiration"/"thinspo." and it absolutely influenced, shaped, and codified my pre-existing eating disorder. i went from having some troubling habits and traits to being incredibly unwell within what felt like a matter of days. there were actual pages designed to train me on how to have an ED correctly. it was all so suddenly easy. i was sick; and the nature of the illness meant - i wanted to be sicker.

it takes an average of 7 years for a person to fully recover. i know this personally - even now, 10 years from the worst of it, i still fucking struggle. i am so much happier now and i eat what i want and i literally don't think about food at all (19 year old me would shudder) and yet - i still fucking know the calories of plain toast with butter.

an eating disorder is one of the deadliest types of mental illness. over 1 in 4 people with an ED will attempt suicide.

and i'm sorry. i just do not see the exchange rate of "high rate of engagement" versus "the value of a human life."

[fdelopera]

Welcome to the 44th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”).

This section was first printed on Friday, 3 December, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 17 with, “In the morning, a note from the Phantom reminded that payment was due,” and goes to, “…'All it takes is an accomplice…' '…who could be male or female', Moncharmin added casually.”

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) Chapter 18 in the Gaulois text is Chapter 17 in the First Edition, etc.

2) Compare the Gaulois text:

Il lui avait dit cela le matin même en lui montrant une nouvelle missive du Fantôme qui leur rappelait l'échéance.

Translation:

He [Richard] said this to him [Moncharmin] that very morning, while showing him a new letter from the Phantom which reminded them that payment was due.

To the First Edition:

Le matin, une missive du fantôme qui leur rappelait l'échéance.

Translation:

That morning, a letter from the Phantom reminded them that payment was due.

3) “mam’ Giry” in the Gaulois became “Mame Giry” in the First Edition. Both mean roughly Ma Giry, or Mama Giry.

4) When Leroux rewrote “Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations” for his First Edition, he added in a number of details that are absent from the Gaulois text. I have indicated where these additional passages exist using Coward’s translation.

Regarding Mme Giry’s dialogue, Coward translates her words using Cockney speech patterns, making her sound much more affected than she does in Leroux’s text. So, please take Coward’s translation with several grains of salt in this instance. To be sure, Mme Giry doesn’t speak with a “posh” accent, but she isn’t at the level of “Ello gov'na!” either.

5) This passage was added to the First Edition:

Begin (Coward translation): “Are you still on good terms with the Phantom?”

End: “I’ll have you know that nobody’s ever had any doubts on that score!”

6) Leroux reworked this passage in the First Edition, expanding on the Managers’ interactions with Mme Giry. In the Gaulois, this section reads:

“I am going to have you arrested, Mme Giry, as a thief!”

Incredibly, Mama Giry suddenly seemed to calm down.

“If that’s on account of the twenty thousand francs,” she said, almost serenely, “you, Monsieur Richard, you should know better than me where they got to, those twenty thousand francs!”

In the First Edition, Leroux added this extended section:

Begin (Coward translation): The two black feathers on her shabby hat, which usually looked like question marks, immediately changed into exclamation marks, while the hat itself wobbled wildly, threatening the frayed chignon beneath.

End: “And another thing, M. Richard, you should know better than me what happened to them twenty thousand francs!”

7) Leroux added another section in his First Edition, immediately after Richard’s line: “Me?” said Richard, looked stunned. “And how should I know?”

Begin (Coward translation): But Moncharmin, suddenly grave and looking worried, wanted her to explain.

End: “Why do I know better than you about what happened to the twenty thousand francs? Tell me!”

8) Another extended section added to the First Edition, starting after: “Because they ended up in your pocket!…” gulped the old woman, staring at him as if he were the Devil in person.

Begin (Coward translation): It was now M. Richard’s turn to be blasted by this bolt from the blue and then withered by M. Moncharmin’s increasingly suspicious eye.

End: “I never said no such thing!” said Mme Giry, “seeing as how it was me in person that put the money in M. Richard’s pocket!”

9) Compare the Gaulois text:

Pardon ! Pardon ! Pardon ! Laisse cette femme s'expliquer !

Translation:

“Please! Please! Please! Let the woman explain!”

To the First Edition:

Pardon ! Pardon ! Pardon ! Laisse cette femme s'expliquer ! Laisse-moi l'interroger. 

Translation:

“Please! Please! Please! Let the woman explain! Let me question her.”

10) Compare the Gaulois text:

Mais Richard qui touche à l'apoplexie :

— Moi ! j'aurais mis les vingt mille francs dans ma poche ! Tu veux que je lui laisse dire cela !

Translation:

But Richard, who was becoming apoplectic, said:

“Me! I put the twenty thousand francs in my pocket! You want me to allow her say such things?”

To the First Edition:

Et il [Moncharmin] ajoute :

« Il est vraiment étrange que tu le prennes sur un ton pareil !… Nous touchons au moment où tout ce mystère va s'éclaircir ! Tu es furieux ! Tu as tort… Moi, je m'amuse beaucoup. »

Translation:

And he [Moncharmin] added:

“It’s truly odd that you are behaving in such a manner!... We are nearing the moment where this whole mystery shall be cleared up! You are furious! You are misguided… As for me, I’m rather enjoying myself.”

11) Compare the Gaulois text:

Je n'ai pas pu dire cela ! déclare-t-elle, attendu que c'était moi qui mettais, en personne, les vingt mille francs dans la poche de M. Richard ! si toutefois il y avait vingt mille francs dans l'enveloppe ; car moi, je le répète, je n'en savais rien… Ni M. Richard plus, du reste !

Translation:

“I couldn’t say that!” she proclaimed, “since it was me that personally put the twenty thousand francs in M. Richard’s pocket! If indeed there were twenty thousand francs in the envelope; for I, I repeat, I knew nothing about that... Nor did M. Richard, neither!”

To the First Edition:

Vous me dites qu'il y avait vingt mille francs dans l'enveloppe que je mettais dans la poche de M. Richard, mais, moi je le répète, je n'en savais rien… Ni M. Richard non plus, du reste !

Translation:

“You say there were twenty thousand francs in the envelope that I put in M. Richard’s pocket, but I, I repeat, I knew nothing about that… Nor did M. Richard, neither!”

12) Compare the Gaulois text:

Quant à celle que je déposais dans la loge du fantôme, c'était une autre enveloppe exactement pareille, et que j'avais, toute préparée, dans ma manche.

Translation:

“As for the one that I put in the Phantom’s box, it was another envelope that was exactly the same, which I had all ready up my sleeve.”

To the First Edition:

Quant à celle que je déposais dans la loge du fantôme, c'était une autre enveloppe exactement pareille, et que j'avais, toute préparée, dans ma manche, et qui m'était donnée par le fantôme !

Translation:

“As for the one that I put in the Phantom’s box, it was another envelope that was exactly the same, which I had all ready up my sleeve, and which was given to me by the Phantom!”

13) Compare the Gaulois text:

Ce disant, mame Giry sort de sa poche …

Translation:

Having said this, Mama Giry pulled from her pocket …

To the First Edition:

Ce disant, Mame Giry sort de sa manche …

Translation:

Having said this, Mama Giry pulled from her sleeve …

14) Compare the Gaulois text:

MM. les directeurs s'en emparent. Ils l'ouvrent…

Translation:

The Managers grabbed it. They opened it…

To the First Edition:

MM. les directeurs s'en emparent. Ils l'examinent, ils constatent que des cachets cachetés de leur propre cachet directorial, la ferment. Ils l'ouvrent…

Translation:

The Managers grabbed it. They examined it, and noted that a seal stamped with their own managerial seal closed it. They opened it…

15) Minor differences in punctuation.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 3 December, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

[mousy-nona]

Head-cannon for thought?

Lucifer has duck wings so they molt every spring and end of summer. Luci dealing with molting… with Alastor??

Excerpts from “Duck Care for Dummies: Hell Edition”:

Molting can be painful for your aquatic friends! Their skin can get very sensitive during this time, and some ducks may even pick on their fellow birds. Please be patient with them throughout the molting process. 

Alastor looked up from the book with a grin that sent Angel Dust scurrying for cover. 

“Very interesting,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming fever-bright. 

The mystery started a few weeks ago. The denizens of the hotel had woken up one morning to find some mysterious prankster had scattered feathers everywhere – between the couch cushions, on the stairs, even stuffed between the kitchen cabinets and in between the radio speakers (that one felt a bit personal). 

So began a strange battle, with the hotel on one side and what appeared to be the ghost of Mother Goose on the other. Every afternoon, they’d finish cleaning up the remnants of last night’s avian snowstorm, and every morning they’d wake up to find a new layer of radiant white down covering every possible – and impossible – surface. 

Husk finally lost it when he found a stray piece of fluff floating in his rum. “Alright, ‘fess up! Who the hell is shaking their tail feathers around this damn place, huh?” 

He glared daggers at Vaggie, whose very conspicuous wings flared wide as everyone turned to stare at her. She marched forward until she and Husk were nose to nose. 

“What the hell are you implying, huh?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying, you overgrown chicken!” 

It was mayhem. Charlie rushed to Vaggie’s defense, Angel Dust pulled out a bin of popcorn, Niffty started chanting kill kill kill kill at the top of her tiny lungs. But Alastor, who made a habit of haunting the shadows, spotted something no one else did: one of Lucifer’s hands twitching towards his back. Where his own wings would be, when he wasn’t hiding them. 

“Interesting,” Alastor grinned, then disappeared to the library, where he found this book after a few hours of intense searching. Someone had moved it from the shelves and shoved it under a massive pile of papers – almost as if they didn’t want anyone to find it.  

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor was nothing if not thorough. Humming a swinging, jaunty tune, flipped to the last chapter. 

So your duck is molting…what should you do about it? 

Unlike their earthly counterparts, ducks in hell may go through a much longer molt without help. A good avian caretaker can speed up the process by helping brush out the feathers. A light touch is essential – using a soft brush or bare fingers is the best way to dislodge the plumage without hurting the sensitive skin underneath. 

“Very interesting.” 

He waited until nightfall to make his move. When the hotel had finally quieted down, and the only thing he could hear were the roaches in the walls, he willed himself to appear by Lucifer’s door and knocked, just once. 

Lucifer cracked open the door, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. “Charlie, is that – oh. It’s you.” He sighed, visibly deflating when he saw who it was. Alastor’s smile widened. 

Oh, he was going to enjoy every moment of this. Especially the parts where Lucifer would protest, and stutter, and turn as red as one of his beloved apples. 

“I was doing a little light reading today, and stumbled upon a rather interesting passage.” 

Lucifer scoffed and tried to slam the door in his face, but Alastor managed to slip his foot in the crack before he could.

“Alastor, it’s really way too late for this – “

Alastor held up the book in question, and Lucifer shut up immediately. A pink blush spread across his pale face. Alastor could have purred with satisfaction at the sight of it. Oh, how he enjoyed making Lucifer uncomfortable. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. 

“Would you like me to share a few verses with you? I must say, this portion about just how sensitive the skin grows during a molt is especially fascinating –” 

“Shut up!” Lucifer stuck his head out into the hallway and hurriedly glanced around, checking to make sure if anyone had overheard him. Then he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and yanked him inside. 

“Your Majesty, how very forward of you.” 

Lucifer pinched his nose between two fingers and took a long breath in. Out. “So you figured it out, huh?”

“That you’ve been spreading your body parts all over the hotel?” Alastor chuckled merrily. “Quite. I found it especially interesting how fond your feathers were of my radios.”

Lucifer had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay, that was childish, I admit it. But you’re not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“That’s entirely by design, I assure you.” Alastor stepped forward, his smile turning coy. “But this little midnight rendez-vous isn’t about me. It’s about you, and your rather, ah, feathery problem.” 

Lucifer pouted, looking almost uncannily like one of his beloved toy ducks. “I’ve never gone through a molt alone, alright? Lilith is usually here to help me out, and…it’s a rather intimate thing to ask of Charlie.” 

“That’s why I’m here!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor the Radio Demon, at your humble service.” He swept into a grand bow, ending it with a little flourish of his cane because he was a showman, first and foremost. 

Lucifer blanched. “If you think I’m ever letting you within an inch of my wings–”

“And what’s the alternative, your Majesty? You’re going to fill the hotel with feathers until we all suffocate or drown? You’ll wait until Husk kills Vaggie?” He covered his mouth, feigning shock. “I didn’t realize you were so cruel! You would really stand by and do nothing as your daughter becomes a widow?”

Lucifer scoffed, but Alastor could tell that he’d hit a nerve. He paused and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair. 

There was a long moment of silence. Then finally – “I do need help.” The words were so quiet, spoken so quickly it could have been a passing breeze.

Alastor stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Lucifer’s thin shoulders. Lucifer was burning up, his back so hot Alastor could feel it through his gloves. “The night’s not getting any younger.” He leaned in so his lips brushed the shell of Lucifer’s ear, delighting in his shudder, in the bob of his throat as Lucifer gulped. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple. Alastor’s mouth watered, but he forced himself to sit still and wait. “I suggest we start immediately.” 

“Fine,” Lucifer sighed. Slowly, begrudgingly, he stripped off his coat and shirt, then willed his wings into existence. All six of them sprang out in a veritable shower of feathers. Alastor was covered in the stuff – feathers were in his hair, on his suit, stuck on his pants. A few of them even landed in his mouth, to his great displeasure. 

He spat them out and glared daggers at the angel, who looked like he might burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Lucifer said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic about the mess. 

Alastor determinedly shook off the plumes that he could find. Then he stepped forward, stripping off his gloves as he loomed over Lucifer’s wings. His smile grew as Lucifer shrunk back, staring nervously at the sharp points of his claws as they drew closer and closer to his tender skin. 

“Can’t you keep those things on?” He squeaked.

“No can do!” Alastor said, almost sing-song with glee. “The book said it would be better with bare hands.” 

“They probably didn’t think of the claws – oh!” He jolted upright, as if he’d been tazed. His eyes fluttered closed, a truly indecent sound ripping from his throat as Alastor rubbed the outer spot of his wings. A few feathers flew off, revealing bare skin beneath. With a gentleness that Alastor hadn’t known he’d possessed, he rubbed carefully around the frame of the wings first, working from left to right as he freed Lucifer of the worst of the molting.

Lucifer grit his teeth, his throat working as he fought to keep those strange sounds inside, but more and more escaped as Alastor finished with the edge of his wings and started working his way inward, towards the spot where his wings folded into his shoulder blades. At one point, Alastor brushed against a particularly sensitive zone near his upper back, and Lucifer let loose a long, low moan, his back arching up against Alastor’s graceful fingers. 

And Alastor, being Alastor, couldn’t let it slide. 

“Having fun, your Majesty?”

Lucifer turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Like strawberries in spring. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Alastor’s hand stilled. “Why, I thought I was doing you a favor. I could stop here…”

“No!” Lucifer yelped, then buried his head in his arms, as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “I mean…”

“Yes?” Alastor prompted. The embarrassment! The shame! Lucifer’s humiliation was sweet on his tongue, like blood and spun sugar.

“Please continue,” Lucifer whispered, his voice mouse-quiet. Alastor chuckled. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

Lucifer jerked and arched as Alastor finished his ministrations, the white pile of feathers on the floor growing into hills, then mountains. Finally, Alastor leaned back, humming with satisfaction at a job well done. 

“I daresay my work here is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking out his wings with a groan of satisfaction. “They feel so light! I can’t remember the last time I could move them like this. I – Alastor, thank you.” 

Alastor grinned. “Save your thanks. Let’s just say…you owe me one.” 

Lucifer blanched and shook his head. “I am definitely not saying that.” 

As Alastor turned to leave, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder.

“My molting season…it doesn’t end for another few weeks.”

“And…?” Alastor prompted, his Cheshire cat grin stretched almost impossibly wide. 

“I would appreciate it if we could do this again,” Lucifer said, too fast, as if he thought he could pretend he never said it if he said it quickly enough. 

"An interesting idea! I'll be sure to give it some thought."

Lucifer spluttered, but Alastor was already gone, his radio laugh echoing endlessly into the night.

[apostacism]

wait ok i have some thoughts on this too but would LOVE to hear what u think about hawke's mabari

The short answer is none of my Hawkes have one and I'm against it from a meta perspective and a textual perspective

Like in a meta sense the mabari is a dlc added - as I've heard it told - to appease whiners who felt they deserved a dog and I find that obnoxious because of my own opinion that post-release editing your game based on fan reactions is a little bitch move that makes the game worse

SETTING THAT ASIDE:

There is no reason that Hawke should have a mabari. Mabari are expensive specialized war dogs belonging to the nobility (and to the Ash Warriors, who are a somewhat difficult fringe case, in part because they're so underdeveloped. Like the whole concept of the Ash Warriors is super weird, but let's just hold that they're allowed to keep breeding and owning mabari as this self contained mercenary group because they have to renounce all ties to the world and there's probably some benefits to having a reserve population to cross with noble stock. Anyway), and Hawke is a nobody from Lothering.

BUT as we know from Loghain, it is not impossible for the farming class to own mabari, so that in itself doesn't disqualify Hawke. As we also know from Loghain, having a mabari can attract attention, so I don't think on the whole the benefits of a mabari swing in the Hawke family's favor, but regardless, if we want to say Hawke HAD a mabari, there's precedent.

HOWEVER. The Hawke family had to get to Kirkwall. Flemythal ensures they get to Gwaren, but that's it. They have to get themselves onto a jam-packed refugee ship, and all the way to Kirkwall, and off the refugee ship, and into Kirkwall.

There's no way they're keeping the dog. There's no way someone at some point in that process doesn't seize the dog as a bribe or a requirement of passage - remember, Loghain is Teyrn of Gwaren at that point. While he personally probably wouldn't condone seizing someone's mabari, because of his history, we know from Arl Howe that his confederates would easily not be so restrained. A port authority, some random nobility... literally anyone could just demand the dog because they're Important and the Hawke family are refugees. And there's no way a ship's captain is allowing the mabari on their boat anyway. The space? The food? The shit? Maybe if the Hawke family could pay a premium for passage, but they're flat fucking broke and they have nothing. They can barely get themselves on a ship and they're going to convince someone to use space that could be used for cargo or overcharging refugees on a DOG?

It's the same thing even if they get the dog to Kirkwall no one is going to let random paupers in lowtown have a WAR DOG. An expensive pedigreed animal with INHERENT VALUE and INHERENT WEAPONHOOD. The dog is a WEAPON and you don't let poor people keep expensive weapons as pets and then SIC THEM ON PEOPLE in the STREET. doesn't matter if the people in the street are very very bad :( there's just no way. Someone along the way either wanted the dog or wanted Hawke to not have the dog or the dog just couldn't come with for logistical reasons the end.

Assuming the Hawkes even had a mabari in the first place which I'm still not on board with. It's like saying they had a warhorse like... no they didn't.

[paranoid-rhythm]

「Chaldea Treasure Hunting!」 Oberon Edition (Translation)

Oberon: Time to embark on an unforgettable adventure with this fairy king Oberon!

.....................

Guda: It's a city of steam!

Oberon: Hey, you're a youngster from the 21st century, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be used to this kind of city? Well then again, I can understand your excitement. 

Even though it's the same consumer civilization as yours, I guess you find that there is a certain allure in this scenery. It's a city that retains its medieval charm while being dominated by a primarily industrial design, I guess being able to imagine such a contradictory world is one of humanity's strengths.

Guda: You're a reliable companion!

Oberon: Well, of course! If it's a request from you, this Fairy King Oberon will fly over to you with all his might! Though well, it did take me a quite a while to change into these clothes, but I hope you forgive me for that. After all, we're going to an adventure! So I have to be stylishly dressed, right? 

Now then, according to this steam observation clock, it seems that the Holy Grail of blessings is somewhere underground. If we find it, we'll gain a lot of QP, right? Time to go all out to repay my debts!

.....................

Oberon: Honestly, stairs of all things? In a city of clockwork? Not even a single transport mechanism?! I guess we'll just have to accept this fact and take the long way down. It'd be much easier if only I could fly, but as you know, my wings are just ornamental. Maybe I should go to Da Vinci and ask her to make a mechanical glider for me. No, maybe a jet pack is saferー...

Guda: Oberon...! Wait!

Oberon: Hmm? Did you say anything? Whoa there! Sorry, sorry, I got distracted. Wait, is our faces kind of close right now? Are you okay? Pfft... Haha... Hahahahaha! Just what kind of expression are you making! Too bad it's dark in here, if I had a camera, I would've taken a snapshot of it! 

Guda: Are you telling me my face looks weird?

Oberon: Whoa, sorry about that. I don't mean anything bad by that. I'm telling the truth. It's just that, it's an expression I've never seen you make before. It’s not the nervousness in battle, it's not the fear of death, it's something child-likeー... no, it's nothing. Saying it out loud just cheapens it. 

Anyway, forget that! Right now, there's only the two of us, alone in this underground passage. It's not like there's a terrifying enemy waiting for us ahead, so let's take it easy and enjoy this uncharted journey together!

The path ahead looks like it's going to get even narrower, so hold my hand, and let's keep moving forward. It's so you won't stray far from me, come on now, give me your hand.

.....................

Oberon: Looks like we've descended quite a bit. Oh! This seems to be the lowest level. All that's left is a straight path from here. Everything’s going smoothly! Hm? 

Huh? What is it? Is it coming from behind us? 

What in the world? This is unexpected! Let's run, Master! 

Just how persistent are these guys! And to top it off, I think there's even more of them now! 

Ah, I see light shining up ahead! Let's keep going!

Huh?! There's no road?! We're gonna fall, Master! Give me your hand!

Guda: Oberon!!!

- The Master and Oberon clung to each other as they fell. -

Oberon: Is this what they call "drowning in schemes and strategies," huh? I didn’t expect the path would collapse. Oh well, I’m used to falling. It’s just that this time, I'm a bit more entangled into something.

.....................

Oberon: Oww... Ah, Master, are you okay? 

It's hard to believe there's so many flowers blooming down here, right? As long as there is life, there will always be flowers blooming somewhere. Water, sunlight, flowers, insects, and greenery, they're all part of the cycle after all.

That's right. I'm the one who left the Holy Grail there. Because I heard that you were going to go on an adventure.

It's all true that I was asked to do this. However, it wasn't as calm as I expected it to be for the Master. Things didn't go as expected, but today is a day of celebration for you, right? What's important isー

Nemo Marine: Captain! I've found Oberon! 

Nemo Marines: We've found him!

Nemo Professor: It's all a farce! Oberon-shi has been persistently rejecting all communication attempts.

Captain Nemo: We've finally connected to you. Oberon, is the Master alright? The communications suddenly cut off when you went underground though. 

Oberon: Oh my, I didn't know about that~! The Master is fine and has successfully retrieved the Holy Grail. It's no problem over here. 

Nemo Engine: Then hurry up and return already! Your scolding will come after that!

Nemo Nurse: Fufu, if you have any injuries, I'll take care of them, so please feel free to come to me.

Captain: Everyone, shut up for a moment! Oberon, Master, it's great that you two are safe. I'd like for you both to take your time and explore the city. And if possible, I'd like for the both of you to take a lot of photos of the scenery for future reference. There's a lot of vehicles in a clockwork city, right? 

Oberon: Of course! Please look forward to the souvenirs we'll get you, Captain! We have to keep Engine happy after all. 

Nemo Engine: I-it's not like I'm interested in motorcycles or anything! W-well, I'll use it as reference for the Penguin Porter's external parts...

Oberon: Okay, then let's focus on that, huh? Well then, see you later in Chaldea!

Nemo Bakery: I’ll bake a warm baguette while waiting for you, okay?

Oberon: Alright, let's go back to the surface and explore the town until the sun sets. Even though it's a town that's messy, oily, and full of shady shops, I'm sure it'll become a wonderful memory. 

After all, exploring an unknown world is an adventure in its own right.

[accio-victuuri]

an analysis : Xiao Zhan + The Moon & Sixpence 🌖

as usual with xzs videos like the one just released, you can make an entire thesis into the possible meanings of every chapter and frame. add it’s relation to xz and if you’re a pro, go deep into the techniques they used in shooting and editing. this one tho is centered around the theme of “the moon and sixpence” which is a book xz recommended before. I saw a few articles linking this to the elements on the vlog and so i looked into it.

i have lightly talked about some elements from the vlog yesterday but focused more on the quotes that appeared and the music chosen.

it’s been years since he mentioned this book and he didn’t even say that it’s his all-time-favorite. for example, the van gogh elements, we expect that already to be a recurring theme. as well as the moon, but this one has another connection to it. i am honestly curious where his headspace is at, and why, in this specific point in time he felt so close to the message of that book or some parts of it.

let me start with a synopsis and the book is available on googlebooks if you wanna try it out like i did. 🔖

with the plot alone, you can get a sense of why he would like it. at the time he read it, he was not yet the superstar xiao zhan that we know now. and this is why i guess he related to it more now. especially the sacrifices he has to make for the path he has chosen. this was evident in his GQ cover story interview where he compares himself to his other friends and how they have normal lives. the books is written in the first person POV of narrator who is looking into the stockbroker turned artist Charles Strickland. you get to see the thoughts of the narrator and how he views the main character of his story. the way i see it, the narrator is “Xiao Zhan the person” and how he sees “Xiao Zhan the public personality”. this concept of two sides to him was opened up in his esquire cover story and i can’t help but think it relates to this story.

i will be heavily quoting passages from the book that attracted me and i personally thought relates to xz. this is my personal interpretation only.

The greatness of Charles Strickland was authentic. It may be that you do not like his art, but at all events you can hardly refuse it the tribute of your interest. He disturbs and arrests.

the story starts of with this line and well isn’t this one way to describe xiao zhan? he has always been described as authentic and the “real deal” as far as idols and actors go. not many people are expected to like him or be part of his fan club and chase him — however, one thing is clear: he disturbs and arrests. his popularity is something that is unheard of and many artist and companies try to replicate. he is a disturbance to the norm in c-ent and why he is a constant target. it’s his biggest asset and liability. something like MFW and stepping out of his home is also expected to attract all kinds of attention. He is aware of that.

“His faults are accepted as the necessary complement to his merits. It is still possible to discuss his place in art, and the adulation of his admirers is perhaps no less capricious than the disparagement of his detractors; but one thing can never be doubtful, and that is that he had genius. To my mind the most interesting thing in art is the personality of the artist; and if that is singular, I am willing to excuse a thousand faults.”

this is in the POV of the narrator, describing the artist he is writing a book about, Charles Strickland. the message of this quote is similar to the one i mentioned above. xz is not perfect and people, specifically his fans should accept that. it’s what makes him more real. through his wins and losses, he is still xiao zhan.

“It is a salutary discipline to consider the vast number of books that are written, the fair hopes with which their authors see them published, and the fate which awaits them. What chance is there that any book will make its way among that multitude? And the successful books are but the successes of a season. Heaven knows what pains the author has been at, what bitter experiences he has endured and what heartache suffered, to give some chance reader a few hours’ relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey. And if I may judge from the reviews, many of these books are well and carefully written; much thought has gone to their composition; to some even has been given the anxious labour of a lifetime. The moral I draw is that the writer should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in release from the burden of his thoughts; and, indifferent to aught else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success.”

this next passage makes me think of the projects he has done and what it must feel like for him. there are a lot of dramas/movies that come out every year and what we repeatedly hear from xz is that he only wishes to bring good works. something people will enjoy and appreciate— never mind the popularity that comes with it. he just finished filming a big project LOCH which i can only imagine is so stressful to him. and now is working on another historical drama.

he is someone who immerses himself in the character and once it’s done, it must be a huge weight off his shoulder. like what is said — seek reward in the pleasure of work and in release from the burden of his thoughts.

“Then, what in God’s name have you left her for?’

‘I want to paint.’

I looked at him for quite a long time. I did not understand. I thought he was mad. It must be remembered that I was very young, and I looked upon him as a middle-aged man. I forgot everything but my own amazement.

‘But you’re forty.’

‘That’s what made me think it was high time to begin.’

i think this one is pretty self explanatory, how he started in the entertainment circle a little bit later in his life. compared to his peers. but the answer was simple to him as it was with Strickland, in his case, “i want to sing.”

‘I tell you I’ve got to paint. I can’t help myself. When a man falls into the water it doesn’t matter how he swims, well or badly: he’s got to get out or else he’ll drown.”

this message seems similar to the one quoted on the vlog about about the rivers and small streams. in this one, it emphasizes how one should not be afraid to take the small step of “swimming badly” in hopes that someday they will wade the waters more efficiently.

“But here was a man who sincerely did not mind what people thought of him, and so convention had no hold on him; he was like a wrestler whose body is oiled; you could not get a grip on him”

If there was something in this book the describes XZ so perfectly — it is this one. I think he is not devoid of over thinking about what people say or being a people pleaser. but in recent times, i am seeing a change in him and how he is more calm. a freedom in the way he speaks, the truths he is no longer holding back. he is not afraid to be different anymore.

which led to that GUCCI outfit. LOL! 🤣🤣🤣

‘Look here, if everyone acted like you, the world couldn’t go on.’

‘That’s a damned silly thing to say. Everyone doesn’t want to act like me. The great majority are perfectly content to do the ordinary thing.”

so true. a great majority wouldn’t and couldn’t do what he does. just looking at the chapters in the vlog, from going to a distant place and dealing with the MGW chaos. after that, being only afforded a small time to decompress and sit. to enjoy the sunset. that’s what his life is.

“I don’t pretend to be a great painter’, he said. ‘I’m not a Michael Angelo, no, but I have something. I sell. I bring romance into the homes of all sorts of people. Do you know, they buy my pictures not only in Holland, but in Norway and Sweden and Denmark? It’s mostly merchants who buy them, and rich tradesmen. You can’t imagine what the winters are like in those countries, so long and dark and cold. They like to think that Italy is like my pictures. That’s what they expect. That’s what I expected Italy to be before I came here.”

i would guess this is how he sees his work. he never claimed to be the best, you can see that with how he always mentions wanting to be better. he wants to give the people a positive view of life. which i can clearly see from the vlogs even, makes you wanna go where he visited.

“A man’s work reveals him. In social intercourse he gives you the surface that he wishes the world to accept, and you can only gain a true knowledge of him by inferences from little actions, of which he is unconscious, and from fleeting expressions, which cross his face unknown to him. Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem.”

another one that i think describes xz. his little actions that we see reveal his true self —- the gentle, funny and dorky xiao zhan which is a contrast to the character he sometimes has to portray. it’s when we talk about his duality, the way he was posing and “game face on” for GUCCI but when he did the interview you can see the dorky xiao zhan 😂

there are times that xiao zhan merges some of the qualities of his celebrity side and i think it’s perfectly person. it is a huge part of his life, and the way i see it, his experiences only make him a better person.

“I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage.

They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known.

Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history.

Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs.

Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth.

Here at last he finds rest.”

read that again. it’s a lovely way to put into words what i imagine is something that not only xz goes through. we know what kind of environment and country he lives in, i’m not trying to get political but you get the point. being a celebrity or public personality like him is vastly different from how it is with the rest of the world. i have always admired how he handles it all with grace, how he he willingly accepts the responsibility and burden of being who he is. and that’s why i was also surprised by his answer when asked about a parallel world and he answers about a superpower where he can make it possible to have no disputes in the world. being in that place, with lots of people around, from different parts of the world probably made him think more about this topic. aside from eating pizza and being his usual beautiful self, he was thinking about some serious issues too.

chapter 1 was about going to a distant place but not really, there was something in that place and experience that feels like a home he longs for.

alternate explanation, this can also mean him living his life as a graphic designer, and then spreading his wings into a different industry — being the place he has sought. but considering the time this was released and where he is now at life, i’m thinking it’s more of the former.

so busy yearning for the moon that he never saw the sixpence at his feet. 🪙

this imagery at the end of the vlog + the coin he holds + the quote fits so well together. the way i see it, XZ is doing both. he appreciates the moon, he looks up to it but he doesn’t miss to see and hold the sixpence. it’s why he is holding on to it, in some, it was even rolling on it’s own towards him. and it’s not just the proverbial sixpence. he is seeing and appreciating his surroundings —- the egg he ate, laundry, bike etc.

as a fan, this is actually comforting to me. the book itself is not the happiest, which makes sense cause xz prefers melodramatic to downright tragic stories. but it shows a realistic view of what some goes through to pursue their dreams. it’s not as glamorous as what we see on tv or the internet. but the end of the vlog, shows that xz is keeping a balance. he is not just busy looking up at the moon— he is also living his life.

-END.

I first knew about the connection of the vlog to the book via 辉夜姬不叽 and i got hooked into writing something about it and reading the source material. i also liked @resonancewitness interpretation of the vlog, particularly the lines in starry starry night.

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (11/16)

Mulder perused his office bookshelf, pulling down several books and stacking them on his desktop. The morning sun shone in through the skylight, dusty beams cutting through the air at a slant.

Scully had stayed the night at his apartment but had left early in the morning to shower and dress at home. To his great surprise and elation, when he suggested that he could clear out a few drawers and some closet space for her to keep things at his place, she thought it was a good idea and offered to do the same for him at her own home. 

It was with this same ebullient mood that Mulder cross-referenced the information he’d found online the night before with folkloric texts both new and old. 

When Scully walked in with two cups of coffee and a smile, the first thing he did was thank his lucky stars, and the second thing he did was swing his first edition Brynswyn Folkloric Compendium around so she could see it. 

“Here,” he said, pointing to the spot on the page where he wanted her attention. He took a sip of the coffee she’d brought and nodded his thanks. 

“What am I looking at?” she asked. She was leaning forward over the desk, bewitching as anything in his books.

“The information I found last night on the Unseelie courtier coincides with several passages from both Brynswyn and an Eirennach translation of Fair Folk mythos curated by the University of Pennsylvania.”

Scully looked at him blankly. 

“Both are considered to be among the top authorities of hibernian folklore.”

“Okay,” she said. “So you’re thinking what? This courtier is the person responsible for the disappearance of Daly Carmichael?”

“And everything else that’s happened since. I think the fairy hollows are his—and the mechanism by which Daly Carmichael traveled between realms. And I also think he’s responsible for swapping out the evidence, or making it look like it was swapped, as well as wiping the memories of everyone involved.”

“Everyone but us.”

“And Aeon Greene.”

“That’s what I don’t get, Mulder. Why are you and I immune? Why Aeon?”

“Because you and I came into contact with the Seelie Court leaf in Daly’s mouth. The only explanation I can think of is that it’s imbued with Seelie Court magic that counters everything this courtier is trying to do.”

“And Aeon?”

Mulder licked his lips, took a breath.

“I think Aeon is that courtier.”

Scully sat with that for a moment. She wasn’t convinced, but she was willing to hear Mulder out. 

“And this shows us his name?” she finally said, pulling the book closer to her. “His ‘true’ name?”

“Here,” Mulder said, pointing again to a spot on the page. 

Ælfred, she read. 

“Don’t say it,” Mulder warned. 

“You said you found him because of the symbol?”

Mulder turned the page, and there, in a black and white picture taken of a carving in a weathered rock, was a crown broken in two. 

With a renewed feeling of unease, Scully looked up from the page. 

“Mulder,” she said. “In my dream. This was the symbol that was branded on your chest.”

Mulder leaned back, reaching up to unconsciously rub his sternum. He opened his mouth to speak when the office phone rang. 

After taking a shaky breath, Scully reached out and answered. She hung up after about fifteen seconds. 

“That was Skinner,” she said. “He wants to see us in his office. Right now.”

***

Scully was quiet as they rode the elevator up to Skinner’s floor, and Mulder wondered if perhaps the bravado she showed last night when she announced that they should just tell their superior that they were in a relationship was waning. 

It wasn’t unusual to be called to the floor when they’d (he’d) done something wrong, and Mulder would take his licks as they came, but despite the fact that they were breaking FBI regulations, this didn’t feel fair. He could handle censure or probation, but what he couldn’t handle, and he didn’t think Scully could either, was the thought of being separated. And he wasn’t about to break things off with Scully just so they could stay partners. Or maybe he would. Fuck, he didn’t know. 

He was considering what their options were when they stepped into the Assistant Director’s waiting room. 

Arlene looked up from her computer, and gave them a small, kind smile. “You can go right in,” she said. 

Mulder filed in behind Scully and they took their usual seats. Before Skinner could launch into a disciplinary oratory and before Mulder had a chance to even ask if that’s why’d been called into the Assistant Director’s office, Scully spoke. 

“Sir,” she said confidently, “if this is about what Arlene overheard when she came down to our office yesterday—”

Mulder’s heart went to his throat. Christ, she just dove right in. Mulder had always admired her moxie, but this was another level. What Skinner said next was even more surprising.

“I don’t care,” Skinner said with a dour look on his face. 

“Sir?”

“Your after hours relationship,” he went on, sighing as if he couldn’t believe he had to deal with shit like this. “As long as it’s consensual and doesn’t interfere with your work, I don’t care, and I will not mention it. Nor will my assistant. As long as you’re discreet, you won’t have a problem. Some regulations are enforced more than others.”

Mulder and Scully shared a brief look.  

“Your conviction levels may be low, but your solve rate is unparalleled. We couldn’t recreate your kind of investigative chemistry in a lab. My only warning to you is if this goes south, you’re staying together for the kids, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Scully said. 

Skinner gave Mulder a withering look. 

Mulder cleared his throat. “Yes, sir,” he repeated. 

“That’s done, then,” Skinner said. “But that’s not why I called you in here. Your unauthorized trip to Adrian County has the auditors' panties in a twist. Running your own investigations should be done on the weekends, agents. What possessed you to requisition a car from the motor pool and use a Bureau credit card for hotels and meals is beyond me. That’s when I get calls. I don’t like getting calls.”

“Sir,” Mulder started. But Scully interrupted. 

“Sir,” she said with the same pluck and confidence she’d shown minutes before. “We had authorization for that trip and investigation. Mulder spoke to you at 7:15am the day we left for Adrian County. I was in the bed next to him when the Adrian County Sheriff called asking for our assistance and when he spoke to you on the phone. We had verbal authorization from you and a signed 302. The nature of the case we were investigating is such that pursuant to our findings, a force I can’t explain has managed to erase not only the memories of nearly everyone involved in it, yours included, but also the paper trail that proves what I’m telling you is the truth. We had permission. There is an X-File in Adrian County.”

He stared at them for a long moment. “A force?” he then asked, his tone indicating that he didn’t actually want to hear the answer. 

“Magic,” Scully said. “Of some kind.”

Skinner took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I suppose magic is the only explanation as to why I’m hearing this shit coming from your mouth and not his,” Skinner said with a despairing sigh. 

Scully merely sat there looking at him, silent and solemn. Skinner looked like he needed to chug a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Finally, he put his glasses back on.

“Do you have any proof whatsoever? Anything concrete? Any physical evidence?”

Mulder sat forward. “In my office, downstairs,” he said. “We have a magnolia leaf with an etching carved into it that was pulled out of a dead man’s mouth.”

“And I’m to understand that the dead man is purported to be a victim and what triggered this investigation initially?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mulder. 

“Do you believe the leaf was used to choke or poison him?” Skinner asked hopefully. 

“No, sir,” Scully said. “The leaf is of a variety that is only toxic to humans in high doses. I found no evidence of that. In fact, I could find no cause of death at all, which is odd in and of itself. But the relevant piece from the evidence seems to be the etching itself.”

“The nature of which is?”

“Thaumaturgy,” Scully said, finally sounding somewhat reticent. 

Skinner said something under his breath and ran a hand over his face. 

“Okay,” he said after a long moment. “Send me a field report detailing every single thing you have on this case. I will run it up the chain of command. If, and this is a big if, I can convince the Deputy or the Director that this case is worthy of inquiry, I will re-sign the 302 and you can continue with your investigation. In the meantime, stay out of it and keep your noses clean.” Skinner looked at Scully over his glasses. “That goes double for him. Keep him out of Adrian County.”

“Yes, sir,” Scully replied humbly, flitting her eyes briefly toward Mulder.

Then they stood and began making their way to the door. 

“Mulder, a moment?” Skinner said. 

Mulder traded a look with his partner and stepped back into the Assistant Director’s office. 

“You’re punching above your weight. With her.” 

“Don’t I know it, sir.”

Skinner leveled a long look at him. 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

***

They worked through lunch and spent most of the afternoon writing up a field report for Skinner. 

At one point, Scully leaned back and sighed. “Do we name Aeon Greene as a suspect?” she asked. “And do we include our dreams, do you think?” 

Mulder considered this. “I think we leave him out of it for now until we get more concrete proof. As for our dreams…I don’t know if that would help or hurt at this point,” he said. “Maybe we leave them out, too.”

Scully nodded and looked at Mulder seriously. “We never got a chance to talk about the symbol,” she said. “In our dreams. It worries me.”

“I uh,” Mulder said, knowing she wouldn’t like this bit of trivia either. “Every time I’ve woken up from one of those dreams,” he said, “the skin of my chest burns.”

“Physically?” she asked. 

Mulder nodded. “But it only appears on me in your dreams, not mine,” he said. “Though I do experience pain.”

“Could be psychosomatic,” she said hopefully. 

Mulder crossed his fingers on both hands and held them up. 

“Yeah,” Scully said, deflating a bit. She sighed. “I guess what I want to know is…what do the dreams mean, anyway? Do your books mention anything? Are they a portent? A warning? Is someone using them to try to communicate with us? Is it our subconscious trying to solve the case?”

“Firstly, I’ve never loved you more than I do right now. Secondly, I will reiterate once again that while we’re pretty…connected…I don’t think our subconscious is collective. I don’t see how we would have the same dream. And my body reacting physically to your dreams seems…” He shrugged. “As to your other questions, I’ll study the texts more. But in all kinds of folklore, dreams can do anything you mentioned: serve as a portent, serve as a warning. In Nordic folklore, dreams can be used by the dead to communicate with the living. The short answer is: I don’t know.”

“How do we want to move forward?” she went on after a few moments of silence. “Skinner doesn’t want us investigating.”

“We nail horseshoes above our doors,” he said, leaning down to unlock his desk drawer. “Carry around cold iron, and maybe travel with this,” he went on, holding up the evidence bag with the magnolia leaf in two fingers.

Scully looked at the bag, a puzzled look crossing her face. “Why the leaf, I wonder,” she said. “Why magnolia?”

“Magnolia represents different things in different cultures,” Mulder said, setting the leaf on his desktop. “In Chinese folklore it’s a signal of strength. In the US south, it symbolizes luck and stability. In ancient times it was associated with rituals of fertility and spiritual cleansing and was used to bind charms. The dead would carry it to help cross the River Styx. I don’t know. Maybe the Seelie Court just liked it because it was thick and hearty and wouldn’t disintegrate in Daly Carmichael’s mouth.”

Scully looked at him with a fond expression. “Mulder, you’re a wonder,” she said. “And a font of the most useless knowledge known to man.”

Mulder smiled at her. “It won’t be useless when it’s saving our ass from hinkypunks and brownies,” he said. “And Aeon Greene.”

She tilted her head at him in a nod of touché.  

“And if you ever want to kill at bar trivia,” he went on with a cocky wink. “I’m your boy.”

[dappersautismcreature]

im watching the ccforever situation closely, if you want to take a look on twitter be careful tws for grooming and sexual comments about minors,

{he's not acting great about the whole thing apparently being very nonchalant and waving it off (some of these tweets were from 8ish years ago)(with the way he is acting about them i do not believe he is fully guilty about his actions)} < edit for this passage ive seen the translations of the stream where he talks about it, to me, in english, he still seems defensive and not as serious as he should be but who am i to judge.

again huge tws for this situation, dont feel guilty, dont react just yet, find out info for urself, take a moment, think.

im not making any statements yet but im going to be pausing any forever content and not engaging. hearts go out to my mutuals who love his rp and his characters. do not go around harassing anyone who still posts abt the character. be kind.

[horizon-verizon]

The thing about Mirri defenders, I mean people who defend her very worst actions, is that they're Dany haters first. And what's infuriating is that if you really think about it, Mirri is everything they claim Dany is.

Anon is talking more about this recent reblog. I have another reblog of some other person trying to say that Rhaenyra's action of blaming the greens for Visenya was, they imply, dumb and needs to be entirely dismissed HERE, another Mirri defender who also implies that whenever and whatever Alicent says is morally correct is such.

You mean a person who puts everything precious to life below their own need for control & personal revenge for the true horrors done to them AND is wholly irrational or ususe irrational arguments for why they are doing what they are doing and framing it as justice to hide from accountability to boot? Yeah, you're right, anon, that's exactly what's happening.

We were meant to recognize Mirri's going after Dany-Rhaego as her blinded by her rage and trauma, NOT a justifiable or necessary thing! *EDIT* 12/12/24 Once more, she uses the stallion prophecy as justification but she "forgets" that BEFORE she ever tried to kill Rhaego, Drogo had already been dying with no recourse! So how exactly could have Rhaego become the Stallion and inevitably become a pillager and rapist?! People argue that that he comes from rape and/or he has Dothraki-khal "genes" at all, he would regardless....this is racism. And ableism when you factor in their ideas about Targ "madness". *END OF EDIT*

Some of the same people will argue for Mirri against Rhaego (really Dany) but if given the chance, would condemn and argue against Mirri using racist arguments at any other situation or if Dany were not a queen but a Dead Lady or another long suffering Targ.

Once again, Mirri was wrong for what she did to Dany and by extension Rhaego--the child Dany definitely both wanted and was physically so vulnerable being pregnant for (bc of her juvenile age of 14, her body should never have been impregnation and "tasked" with birth; look below to the passage of Dany almost dying) she very likely could have died from Mirri forcing Rhaego to get aborted from her. I could give a fuck about Drogo and how Mirri tricked Dany towards him, Dany does have complex kinda Stockholm syndrom in regards to him and a lot of people/girls-women would. AND that would be Mirri's true justifiable, thus tolerable and safe revenge, as it is Drogo who ruined her and her people's lives:

Mirri obviously cursed or used up the child and induced Dany towards near-fatal labor. Why are we believing a woman who did not feel the fetus inside her move over the girl who did?! Esp when Mirri goes on to admit she killed Rhaego after a long attempt and repetiotus attemot at gaslighting Dany about how she would fix Drogo by trying to make it Dany's fault that she should have not trusted a person who's life she endangered herself for before?! She cursed Rhaego and Dany deliberately, too, to prevent what she thought was inevitable, when Drogo ahd been already dying! The man who also made said 14 yr old pregnant when she had no room to ever say "no"--why is Dany the peros who has to pay for Drogo's actions?! Because she was in the way and the way for Drogo to "live on" or cont fucking lives up through their kid in Mirri's esitmation.

None of this shit about babies turning out evil bec their mom was raped or her dad was a rapist or bec the Dothraki pass down their rapist innate genes down to Rhaego--shut that shit down! That's racist AND medieval ignormauses talk! *EDIT* 12/12/24 Esp with Drogo already having been dying before Mirri tried to kill Rhaego! *END OF EDIT* If that were true, Jon Snow should have turned out as an evil menace as Euron Greyjoy or Ramsey, with how the same people argue for the Targ madness and it being passed down...but he doesn't. It's also sexist, bc why can't Dany's actual compassionate core influence this child, when she would literally be most of what he has and all her Dothraki horde would be under her direct authority and she already is not afraid of banning egregious "traditional" acts?

rainhadaenerys says this, too, which I missed and keep forgetting:

Random thought I just had: interesting how people in this fandom are horrified by Daemon's action of killing a child as a way to get revenge on the child's father/uncle, but at the same time are totally ok with Mirri killing a child as a way to get revenge on the child's father.

Daemon was horrible and wrong for targeting children bc they were children, not because he did or didn't have a "good" reason to be fucked up. The fucked-action is fucked bc it resulted in a killed child, not bc the person was in a class of "deserving" to perform said horrible actions. He wasn't raped nor a vulnerable women in a feudlaist world like Mirri, but Mirri also still went out of her way to destroy another child's life in her revenge against an adult. TWO kids, Dany and Rhaego-the-wanted-fetus-soon-to-be-infant. In the past, I never said Daemon wasn't evil for this, I said that it is very strange how people try to lessen Aemond's murdering Luke by saying Luke hurt him first and/or Luke really did "steal" his "right" bc he's "just a bastard" (and thus deserves to die or his death has less meaning no matter how terrible). Even though Luke sliced out Aemond's eye when he was so much younger than Aemond, much smaller, AND most of all Aemond had been attacking him and his brothers whern he didn't have to and when he was in a place he already shouldn't have been. People love to deny or put down Aemond's hatred, political ambition, self repression, and entitlement (started and partly nurtured by Otto and Alicent and the Faith and society as a whole) as true motivations towards his actions and put ALL said evilness towards either Luke or Rhaenyra or Daemon.

Again, Daemon is no saint: he's still a beneficiary of theis feudal world and claims it whenever he can, he's also entitled, has his own ambitions, and he's downright vile for a lot of things including this, BUT he's also got all this extra misassigned blame or is framed as the architect for the ills others have done against him/those he cares about...not even for revenge (like Mirri) against him but for their personal ambition and subsequent envy-hatred themselves--and for what?! "Hurt people hurt people", Yeah, doesn't make them right nor not a menace when they do terrible things that bring extreme harm towards others! Which is what a lot of people argue for Mirri--refer back to that orig relog chain I reblogged.

Sorry for bringing Daemon and the Dance up, but this reminded me of that post and that matter.

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[sapphire-weapon]

Leon Kennedy’s wiki page is filled with lies and bullshit

And whoever is running the wiki is so afraid of being told that they’re wrong that editing on it is currently disabled -- so I figured I’d just compile a list of errors on my own.

This isn’t fully comprehensive, because my eyes started to glaze over at a certain point, but. It is color coordinated and fully explained.

If you need to reference Leon’s wiki for any reason, please make sure that you have this post up also as well, so that you’re not pulling bad information. Most of the wiki is fine, but there are some things in here, man. People really do just be going on the internet and telling lies.

Notice how there's no citation for this. The source that's actually being pulled from is an offhanded comment the RE2 concept artist made in an art book that Capcom released called Capcom Design Works. It was only ever released in Japan.

Concept artists don't have access to the script and aren't involved with the actual creation of the character. Concept artists are given a general description of what a character should look like and what their general demeanor is. The devs told this artist specifically to make Leon look tanned, so the artist wondered if maybe Leon's heritage was from somewhere in southern Europe — maybe Italy?

It is important to know that Leon's character was conceived and had art drawn of him back when Resident Evil 2 had a completely different story. A different version of RE2 reached 80% completion before being scrapped and completely redone from the ground up. The story changed dramatically. Claire Redfield wasn't even in this original version of RE2; it was a different character entirely named Elza Walker. (source one, source two)

Ergo, even if the intention was to give Leon an Italian background originally, that story no longer exists and has nothing to do with the version of Resident Evil 2 that actually released.

This isn't a big deal, but "offered" is a really funny way of saying "threatened into."

Leon also was never in USSTRATCOM. That's a bullshit lie based on an old build of RE4 that never got released and was, in fact, turned into the game Haunting Ground instead. The wiki says that the proof of this is in a file in Darkside Chronicles. No such file exists -- and, even if it did, Yoshiaki Hirabayashi (who's been a producer and writer for RE since the original REmake) said recently that Darkside Chronicles is no longer canon anyway.

None of this is ever stated in the games. This is pulled from a promotional marketing interview from 1997 — so, before RE2 was even finished or released. There's a decent chance that this interview was done right after 1.5 got thrown out and 2's final story wasn't even fully realized yet.

Capcom has actually given Leon several different backgrounds throughout the years, and none of them have ever made it into the games.

The official Resident Evil 2 novelization has Leon fresh out of college and moving to Raccoon City from New York.

Welcome to Raccoon City wrote that Leon's dad was a cop, and that's how he got into the force, too.

But there's no indication of any of them being true for Leon as he exists in the games. There's no reason to think of the crime background as any more or less canon than the other two, except maybe that someone just likes it better?

In fact, part of that crime backstory is outwardly and explicitly contradicted in Resident Evil 2 itself:

So take that for what you will.

The wiki cites "Official GuideBook" as the source for this. No book with that title exists.

What they're actually referring to is The Resident Evil Archives, which is a book that is filled to bursting with factually incorrect information about the games. Here's the full excerpt of the passage containing that backstory:

Is this really what we're taking as canon fact now? Claire and Sherry being Leon's "single focus" in RE2, with absolutely no mention of Ada at all? Leon being mad about Claire "making her own decisions"?

Here's something else fun from the RE Archives:

I don't see anything on this wiki page about how Leon willingly gave Sherry up to the US Army, nor anything about him reaching out to the federal government himself in order to willingly join their ranks. It's very interesting how only the "drunk at a motel" part made it in.

Citation needed???? The citation is the Resident Evil 2 Remake. This is something that's actually stated in a game — and the wiki is treating it as fanfiction, listing it as secondary to whatever bullshit the RE Archives book is spouting.

This is also the single only glimpse we have ever gotten into anything Leon was doing prior to the intro of RE2. The games do not go any further back in time to explain anything further about where he's from or what his life was like.

This is straight-up not true. It's just an out-and-out lie.

So, Leon and Benford only started working together ten years prior to Benford's death in June of 2013 — making the genesis of that partnership land in 2003. 2002 at the earliest. Neither of those years are 1998, which is the year that Leon was coerced into government custody.

It also makes no sense as to why Leon would like, trust, and respect Benford so much if he was the man responsible for threatening Sherry and ruining his life. It also makes no sense for Benford to be a child-threatening piece of garbage and then also be described as having integrity and being a man of his word.

The only thing that RE6 actually says about who Benford was prior to becoming President was that he was "in the military." 2002 makes sense for Leon and Benford to have met, then, since 2002 was the year of Operation Javier. Leon's status in the government isn't exactly clear during the events of Operation Javier — Leon isn't sent in as a federal LEO; he's sent in with military special forces.

The likeliest explanation is that Adam Benford was the lead commanding officer overseeing Operation Javier — who, upon suspecting he might be dealing with B.O.W.'s, went "Hey, get me the Raccoon City guy. I want him going on this one."

And the rest, as they say, is history.

This is all purely conjecture on my part and cannot be proven or disproven either way — but it, at the very least, makes more sense than just assuming that this one particular file in RE6 got the year of the Raccoon City incident wrong. It also makes more sense than assuming that Leon has some sort of weird Stockholm Syndrome concerning Adam Benford, when he (Leon) is so angry and cynical and jaded in literally every single title after RE4 about his career and about being shackled to the government.

Adam Benford being the guy behind Leon's kidnapping is so beyond the pale and absurd, and the only real basis for it is an advertisement for an airsoft gun, and I'm not joking. I don't know how anyone tries to argue that that ad is more canon than what's both stated and shown in the actual series, but here we are.

This is something that is only true in Resident Evil 4 Remake. Originally, Operation Javier was the first time that Leon and Krauser ever met, per Darkside Chronicles. It is very weird that this detail exists in the wiki, but then the wiki goes on to only describe the DSC version of Operation Javier, with no mention given to the complete overhaul that that story got in RE4make. You wouldn't be able to even asspull a "Krauser only started training Leon after Operation Javier" explanation, either, because in OG RE4, Leon is under the impression that Krauser actually died almost immediately after returning home.

There's no citation for this, but the source is the box art for the Wii version of RE4. However, no other version of RE4 ever makes mention of what school Ashley was going to. The only hint we have ever gotten in a game as to where Ashley was going to school is actually in RE4make, because the sorority stickers on her phone correspond with a sorority out of New York.

There's no citation for this, because the source is RE: Umbrella Corps, which has no provable basis in canon.

This isn't true. Here's the citation that the wiki uses:

There's no year given there, and there's no indication that this happened at some sort of TerraSave reunion. In fact, them meeting in 2010 makes no sense, because this file establishes that there were no open lines of communication between the US government and the BSAA prior to this moment — so how the fuck would Chris have gotten his hands on Leon's report outlining the events of RE4 back in 2009?

Considering the fact that Lost in Nightmares took place in 2006, and that explicitly involved remnants of Umbrella via Oswell Spencer, chances are that that's probably closer to the time that this meeting between Leon and Chris actually happened.

Or, if you wanted to be cheeky about it, you could say that this happened in 2008 so that Hunnigan's "hadn't seen each other in ten years" thing is actually at least a little bit true — since Leon and Chris actually first spoke back in either late 1998 or early 1999, per Code Veronica and Darkside Chronicles.

But there's really no canonical indication of it either way. You can't even use Benford as a benchmark, because Hunnigan could've been reporting to him as POTUS or as a military officer. There's really no way to know.

So, that’s that. I hope we all learned something today. For future reference, don’t look outside of the actual games or movies for information about the series, because it is constantly being contradicted by either other supplementary material or actual game canon. This is the formula you should be following:

numbered game entries are the most canon. numbered game entries will always have the final say. period.

spinoff games starring the recurring cast* (Revelations, Code Veronica, etc) are the second highest tier canon.

CGI movies starring the main cast are the third highest tier canon.

spinoff games not starring the main cast (Outbreak, Dead Aim, etc) are the fourth highest tier canon.

anything else should be ignored.

*spinoff games that have a story, that is. things like The Mercenaries 3D and RE:Verse clearly don’t count and are there for fun gameplay purposes only.

In an instance where things on the same tier contradict each other, the most recent installment wins out.

So, Sherry’s age in RE2 is 10 because RE6 said so – even though OG RE2’s manual had her age listed as 12. Her age of 10 years was then also reaffirmed in RE2make. So, she was 10.

And Gaiden’s not canon, despite it starring Leon and Barry, because RE4, RE6, and Revelations 2 do not acknowledge it as such.

It is very easy to follow this canon if you follow that recipe. 

I also have an essential canon list already typed up and ready to go. These are the only titles you should ever have to even think about committing to your brainspace.

Please don’t let bad faith actors lead you astray, and stop leaning so hard on the wiki until it fixes its problems.

My inbox is always open for questions.

[skyward-floored]

Hello!!

Um…

I really loved that one fic you wrote called “caged” with fable and legend, and I also really liked the sequel. I love how you described the scenes, it was really fun to read!

I saw that you were talking with another user about how legend got into the castle, and you mentioned that he probably got in through the secret passage way that he knows from alttp

I was wondering if maybe you were thinking about writing a prequel to that fic?

Maybe about how the chain lands in Legends Hyrule and they see Hyrule castle looming in the distance, perhaps under a spell of some kind and legend immediately runs towards it to find he can’t enter normally and he tells the chain that he does know of a way in. So they enter through the secret passageway and perhaps legend gets some flashbacks to alttp as they’re fighting monsters (or maybe brainwashed guards) and looking for fable.

It’s just a suggestion tho! I’m aware you have other stuff to do, so…

Uh anyways, I really liked this years whumptober fics a Lot too, they were all amazing! You are really such a talented writer!

That’s all, hugs!!🫂🫂🫂

I hope you have a nice day

So I wasn’t really thinking about writing a prequel at all, and I don’t do requests really but... well. The idea intrigued me, and I sat down and started writing, and this came out 😅

It’s minimally edited and certainly not my best work, but hey, it’s something. I hope you enjoy the little prequel anon, and thank you for the kind words :)

Caged

The sequel (Aftermath)

———————————————————

Again.

Again.

It was all Legend could think of as he stared at the castle in the distance, dread and anger and too many emotions for him to name making his hands shake.

They’d just exited a portal, landing in his Kakariko, and the relief of being back in his own time was immediately overshadowed by the oppressive dark magic in the air. Impa had found them soon after, and explained with a worried look in her eyes about a wizard who had tricked them, and overtaken the castle.

With Zelda inside.

The blood had begun to roar in Legend’s ears as Impa explained further, but he was barely listening anymore, his head spinning and chest tight with anger.

She’s in danger again, the kingdom’s in trouble again, and I wasn’t here to protect—

“Legend, what should we—?”

He took off.

He ignored the shouts of the others, the calls for him to wait up, and booked it towards the castle, his pegasus boots making it impossible for the other heroes to keep up with him. Rain had begun to fall at some point, but Legend didn’t let it stop him, not even when he nearly wiped out in a puddle.

He reached the castle gates in mere minutes, and banged a fist on the doors. They were shut tight though, sealed with magic that Legend knew he wouldn’t be able to break. But he pounded against them anyway, took out one of his rods and blasted at it, tried his rings and items and all sorts of things before finally kicking at them with an angry yell.

The others had caught up to him by then, and they joined his side, split evenly between looking at him and looking up at the gates.

“How are we going to get in?” Wind asked a little hesitantly, and Legend sighed, swiping some drops of rain off his face.

“I know a way.”

He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but it looked like it was the only way they could get inside.

Legend led them all around to the east side of the castle, the group’s weapons drawn and eyes squinted through the rain for any enemies. It was only a passing shower, not a torrential thunderstorm like the last time he’d used this passage, but the similarities still made Legend tense.

History sure does love repeating itself.

More then one concerned look was shot his way as they went, but Legend ignored them, as well as the memories that were trying to claw their way to the forefront of his mind. He had a job to do and a princess to save, and he wasn’t going to get lost in his head.

Even though this was at least the fourth time he’d done this and he was so tired of evil striking at his kingdom and the people he loved and having to stop them again and again. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Not now.

They didn’t run into any monsters on the way to the other side of the castle, which made Legend suspicious, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He quickly revealed the secret passage that would lead them inside, and gestured the others in.

“That’s convenient,” Wild commented, and Warriors studied the passage in interest.

“Are you the only one who uses this tunnel? Seems like a security risk.”

“Only a few people know it exists,” Legend replied, then dropped in so he wouldn’t have to continue the conversation.

Legend took the lead as they began to walk down the tunnel, and kept himself several paces in front of the others, his shoulders slowly hitching upward.

Water dripped as they walked along the passage, running on the edges and making the floor damp. There weren’t any monsters in this spot either, which made it easy for Legend to stride as quickly as possible past the spot where his uncle had breathed his last.

He hated being down here. He hated the reason he was down here and the slimy feel of the floor under his boots, and the smell in the air and the squeak of rats he hated it.

And was it his imagination, or was he smelling blood?

“Legend?”

Legend breathed in sharply as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked over at Twilight, the older hero giving him a searching look. They were nearly to where the dungeons connected, he didn’t want to stop now.

“You alright?” Twilight asked, and Legend let out a bitter laugh.

“Sure, I love coming home to find out the kingdom got taken over in my absence. And nobody knows what happened to my Zelda, and getting to tromp around in the sewers, I’m having the time of my life, thanks,” he snapped. “What’s one more crisis for the kingdom of Hyrule?”

Twilight’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder. “Legend.”

Legend stopped in his tracks and glared back at Twilight, gripping his sword so tightly he was sure it was leaving lines in his palms. “What.”

“We’ll save her, Legend,” Twilight said firmly, and gave his shoulder a bracing squeeze. “You’re not alone. You’ve got us this time— whatever this wizard is capable of is no match for all nine of us. We’ll save Zelda, and the kingdom. We’ll stop this together.”

Legend stared, then looked behind Twilight to where the rest of the Links were standing, and they all gave him equally determined looks. Their eyes were bright and fierce, and full of just as much resolve to save Zelda as his own were.

Legend felt his eyes sting, but he forced himself to blink the tears back, and nodded at Twilight, breathing out as some of the emotions storming in his chest eased a bit.

Twilight released his shoulder, and Legend turned back around, waving them all onward.

“Only a bit further to the dungeons. We’ll check for Zelda there first, but if she’s not there, we’ll... we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Legend said firmly. “Finding her is our biggest objective. The wizard comes second.”

The others nodded as they crossed through a doorway, and Legend squared his shoulders, shoving away the rest of his anxiety and terror and digging up the courage in his chest that had gotten him through six adventures already.

We’re coming Zelda, hold on, he thought desperately, shouting a warning back to the others as they reached the dungeons, and an enemy’s sword nearly took his head off.

Please be okay.